Letters From Home
by BadKatPat
Summary: Lucius is dying and Draco is called home. Sometimes you have to choose between love and family. Or do you? Language, light slash.


It started as an unremarkable day, one just like the day before, and probably just like the day after. There was nothing special about it, nothing one could put one's finger on and say, "This will be the day my life changes." But, this was the day that Draco and Harry's lives changed.

Harry set the toast and jelly on the table. He prepared breakfast five days out of seven, with Draco taking the other two. Harry turned back to the stove and poured the scrambled egg mixture into the frying pan, and reached for a fork.

"Draco, hurry up!" he called over his shoulder. "The eggs will be ready in a minute." The eggs bubbled and sizzled in the pan, and Harry stirred them.

"No need to shout," Draco said as he circled his arms around Harry's waist, giving him a peck on the cheek. He was continually amazed at Harry's domesticity and how he always wanted to cook for him. It was one of the little things that Harry did to show him how much, he, Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, loved him.

Harry leaned back into the embrace, still stirring the eggs. "Mails by your plate, love. Looks like you got another letter from your mother," Harry said, putting the eggs on their plates. "She's been sending you a lot lately, hasn't she?"

"Well, she's been in a mood, and I think she's been missing me," Draco replied, sitting down and reaching for his coffee. He took a sip and put the mug down. "Not bad for a Muggle drink."

Setting Draco's plate before him, Harry smiled. "Well, maybe you should visit her this weekend."

Draco nodded and reached for the letter with the distinctive 'M' seal on the flap. He slid his finger under the flap and pulled out the letter. He held it in one hand and reached for his tea with the other. A faint smile crossed his lips as he gazed at Harry over the mug, taking a sip, and then he flipped the letter open.

Harry didn't see Draco's eyes widen in shock or see the letter slip from his trembling fingers. He only heard the sharp crack of the mug hitting the floor and breaking into pieces.

Harry looked up into Draco's glazed eyes, and immediately took in his paler than pale countenance. He reached over and took Draco's hand in his, his fingers twining with his lover's.

Draco had a far away look in his eyes, but slowly he focused on Harry. "Mother wants me to come home. Father's dying," Draco said slowly, before meeting Harry's concerned gaze.

"I'll pack our bags. You need to go home," Harry said, rising from the table.

Draco tugged on Harry's hand. "I'm not sure I should go. We haven't spoken since he threw me out. And if I go, I'm not sure you should go with me," Draco said, his voice quivering.

Draco was torn. How would it help Lucius if he was there when he died? The right hand of evil had thrown him out, penniless, over six years ago. And for what? Because he was gay? Or was it because he wouldn't bend to the will of his father? Did it even matter?

"Draco," Harry said, breaking into the blond's reverie, "You should go. Even if you don't want to go to see your father, do it for your mother." Harry bent over and wrapped his arms around Draco's shoulders, holding him tight. "She needs you."

Nodding, the blond reached up and placed his hands over Harry's arms. 'And I need you,' Draco thought.

As if reading his thoughts, Harry pressed his lips to Draco's ear and whispered, "I'm going with you. I can't let you go through this alone." With that, Harry hugged him once more and set off to pack their bags.

Draco sat there, lost in his thoughts, wondering how he could go home again.

xxxxx

The men stood in front of the fireplace. Harry adjusted his cloak and brushed the soot of his shoulders. Floo network was not his first choice of travel. He looked over at Draco, who was setting down his travel bag. "She's expecting you, right?" Harry asked a little disconcerted at flooing into a large, empty room.

Draco arched an elegant eyebrow. "This is the entry hall, Harry. One of the house-elves will be here shortly to take our bags, and show us to our room," Draco said, reaching over and flicking the last bit of soot of Harry's cloak. Draco could now see how cold and uninviting it was now. Dark wood paneling covered the walls, and the multicolored beams of light from the stained glass Malfoy crest over the door barely illuminated the room. Portraits of previous lords of the manor lined the walls and three interior doors led into the manor.

A faint pop echoed through the room. "Sirs, Mistress told Elbie to take your bags and to tell you Mistress is awaiting you in Master's sitting room," the house-elf said, taking Harry and Draco's bags.

Harry's eyes widened. It was like looking at a carbon copy of Dobby, but without the nervous twitch.

Draco nodded and waved his hand dismissively. "And where are our rooms?" Draco asked.

"Mistress says you are to stay in your old room." the small elf said before vanishing from sight.

Draco nodded distractedly and walked to the door on the left and opened it. Harry could see the sparkle of a grand hall beyond the doorway, and he hurried to catch up with Draco.

The two walked quietly for quite some time, the only sound in the hall was their soft footfalls. Up three sets of marble stairs and uncountable turns later, Draco stopped in front of a large doorway. It was cherry wood inlaid with runic symbols and trimmed with gold. It was definitely the entrance to the chambers of the manor's lord.

"This is father's sitting room," Draco said reverently. "I was never allowed in before today. I doubt that before he worsened, Mother was allowed in either."

"You never told me he was ill," Harry said in a low voice. There really was no need to be quiet, but this atmosphere made one speak quietly, as if to speak normally was a sacrilege.

"I didn't," Draco said; tracing the "s" shaped symbol with one long finger. "I wasn't going to," he admitted.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"I didn't want you to know, alright?" Draco said his fingers following the path of the symbols to the door handle. "Father has been ill since You-Know-Who died."

Harry took an involuntary step backwards. He'd never fought with Lucius that day; the only spells that he had cast were directed to Voldemort. The shock showed plainly on Harry's face.

"The healers have never figured out what's wrong with him. It's like he's on the verge of drowning all the time; he's suffocating a bit more every day and eventually they said it would kill him."

Draco lowered his eyes. He'd never told Harry because Harry would be consumed with guilt. Harry would blame himself because when he'd killed You-Know-Who, the combined force of the two combatant's magic was felt all over the battlefield. It all came down to whose magic you were hit with. Harry's magic had been fraught with love and Voldemort's had been nothing but evil, dark rage and hatred.

"Are you sure you want to come in here?" Draco asked, reaching for the door handle.

Harry nodded, and reached for Draco's hand on the door handle. He raised it to his lips and kissed the long pale fingers. "Do you want me to?" he whispered, still holding the blond's hand.

Leaning in, Draco kissed Harry, his lips giving Harry the answer he needed. In that one instant Draco knew Harry would be there for him, no matter what happened. It was a kiss of affection and loyalty. And Draco drew comfort from it.

Slowly, the men parted, not wanting to stop, but knowing there was a final task to be done first. Draco gazed into the deep pools of green of his lover's eyes and nodded. He opened the door and motioned Harry to follow.

Narcissa Malfoy stood in the doorway to her husband's chambers. Neither in nor out, it was if she was straddling the worlds of the living and the dying. She glanced into the room quickly, and rushed to Draco and threw her arms around his neck.

Draco held his mother as she wept quietly upon his chest. "I'm here, Mother, I'm here,"

he murmured, patting her gently on the back, one hand stroking her long disheveled hair.

Narcissa pulled away and wiped her face with the heel of her hand. It was then that Draco saw how tired and worn she looked. His mother was always immaculate and coolly beautiful, even when she didn't have to be, and to see her like this was shocking.

"Draco, I've missed you. Oh gods how I've missed you," she said in one quick outpouring. "I can't…I can't …oh," and she started crying again.

"I'm here now. Don't worry, I'm here," Draco whispered into her hair as he pulled her into a hug.

Draco felt the tears seeping through his robes and heard her muffled sobs. Slowly, Narcissa regained her composure. She looked up at her son with reddened eyes, and a determined cast to her face.

He'd seen that look before. Many times. It was the one she had when she was scared, or upset, or disgusted at some trivial social event gone sour. It was the look she had when she was hell bent on being strong.

Brushing a stray lock from her face, Draco nodded. He'd never had to say much to his mother. They'd always understood each other, and words were often unnecessary.

"Mother, this is Harry, Harry Potter." Draco said, turning his mother to face Harry.

"Mr. Potter," Narcissa said, ever the mistress of the manor, and offered her hand to Harry.

Harry kissed her hand, and held it momentarily. "Mrs. Malfoy, I'm sorry…" he started to say.

"Mr. Potter, I need to talk to Draco," she interrupted. "I…my husband…Lucius…" she gestured towards the darkened chambers. Turning, she glared at her son. "I need to talk to you now," she said, her voice steely. "But, I don't want to leave him with the house-elves. "Lucius has never been very nice to them…I don't trust them right now."

"Mrs. Malfoy, I'll sit with him," Harry offered, glancing at Draco.

"Harry, you don't have…" Draco started to say before being shushed by his mother.

Narcissa stared at Harry with an appraising eye. Could she trust this man? Even if he was Draco's boyfriend, would he, could he have a motive to get close to Lucius in his last moments, to destroy him as he had the Dark Lord?

"Please, Mrs. Malfoy, I just want to help," Harry said earnestly. He felt so useless. Everyone he had loved had died alone. And although he did not love Lucius in any shape or fashion, he did love his son. And that was reason enough.

Narcissa felt Draco take her hand. She saw Draco's eyes glint with unshed tears and she knew her husband was safe.

"If you would, Mr. Potter, I would be most appreciative," Narcissa said, feeling Draco's fingers tighten around hers. "Just call us if his condition changes. We'll be just outside the door."

Harry gave a quick nod of understanding and stepped into Lucius Malfoy's room. It was dark, but there was still enough light from the lone candle on the dresser to find the chair next to the bed and sit down.

He gazed at the pale, shrunken form stretched out on the bed. Each breath was laboured and rattling. Dull grey hair circled his head, and his claw-like hands clutched the bedding. This was what Lucius Malfoy had become, a skeleton clinging to life.

Harry couldn't help it. He brushed his fingers across Lucius' cheek, wiping a tear trickling down his hollow cheek.

A pale claw reached up and clutched Harry's hand. Startled, he saw that Lucius had opened his eyes and was staring at him.

"Abomination," he hissed, the word drawn out. "I hate you." Lucius drew in a shallow shuddering breath. "You've taken my son from me. You've taken him away from his family, his birthright, his heritage," the words were spat from dry, cracked lips.

Gently, Harry disentangled Lucius' hand from his, and lowered it to the covers, but he quickly grasped Harry's hand again.

Harry gazed at Lucius, seeing the hatred oozing from the old man. "I've never took Draco away from you," Harry said evenly. "You threw him out, pushed him out of your life."

The grip on Harry's hand tightened, the yellow nails digging into the meat of Harry's palm. "You…you've turned him into some sweet prancing fairy. Something that's not strong enough to assume my title," Lucius wheezed, gasping for breath.

Harry reached around Lucius and raised him into a semi-sitting position. The gasping stopped and Lucius was able to breathe again.

"Draco's a strong man. I haven't taken anything from him. I've only given him love…something you never gave him," Harry said quietly.

"He's a Malfoy. He will assume my title and he will bear an heir to carry on our name. Love has nothing to do with it," Lucius sneered, his lips twisting into a grimace. "And he will do it without you or the estates and money will go to our wretched cousins."

"You'd do that to him?" Harry asked, still holding Lucius up, his arms beginning to shake.

"I would. You…you don't belong in our world. You'll see, he'll do it. Love is nothing. Only money and power matter," Lucius whispered, raising his other hand before Harry's face; the Malfoy crest ring glinting dully on his finger. "He'll do it."

"Father…Harry," Draco said. The young Malfoy heir walked to the bed, and seeing the way his lover was holding his father, he smirked. "Ah, father, I see you've met Harry. He's my boyfriend, you know." Draco drawled.

"Faggot," Lucius spat, and then coughed, a deep rattling sound.

"Harry, would you mind keeping mother company while I visit with Father. I'm sure he has some wonderful tidbits to impart to me," Draco said calmly.

Harry shifted positions and Draco slid his arm around his father's shoulders. Now he was the one supporting the dying wizard.

Sliding his hand across Draco's back, Harry kissed him, a gentle peck on the cheek. He walked from the room, closing the door behind him.

As soon as the door was shut, Lucius gasped, "My son, you must give up this nonsense. You must be a Malfoy and carry on the line."

"Give up what nonsense, Father?" Draco asked, watching his father's contorted face. Each word was more difficult for him to say than the last.

"You must marry; you must have a son to carry our name. You must give up that, that, thing,"

"And what if I don't?" Draco said, cocking an eyebrow. "Are you going to disinherit me? Throw me to the wolves?"

"Your mother will be penniless, and you, you will be cursed with my dying breath," the dying wizard panted. "You're nothing to me, and you've learned nothing as my son."

"I've learned more than I care to from you, but this ring, giving it to me would make you happy?" Draco asked, holding his father's hand, his thumb rubbing across the etched emblem.

Lucius nodded and closed his eyes. Draco twisted the ring on his father's finger.

xxxxx

Draco shut the door behind him. Harry and his mother were sitting there. It was a tender sight, Harry holding the slim pale hand of Narcissa Malfoy, and murmuring soft words of comfort to her. But, his boyfriend was a tender and caring person; no one had to tell him that.

"He's gone, Mother," Draco said quietly.

Narcissa stumbled as she rose from the chair, and flew into Draco's arms. Her soft sobs were the only sound in the room, and Draco stroked her back.

Every slow, even movement made the silver ring gleam on Draco's finger. Harry gaped at it. Lucius had been right. Love didn't matter, only power and money did. He stood, his knees weak, and he felt sick. So this was the way it was. Harry turned and began to walk from the room.

"Harry, please, don't go," Draco said. Narcissa looked at Harry and then at Draco and gave a small watery smile.

"Lord Malfoy, I wish to sit with your father until…until they come for his body. I wish to consider the arrangements for the funeral," she said, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. She patted Draco's cheek and walked into her late husband's room.

Striding across the room, the new lord of the manor embraced Harry in a fierce hug, and kissed him hard and deep. Harry's lips were parting beneath his, and he could taste the sweet warmth of his mouth and he felt Harry's hands roaming the plains of his back, touching him, caressing him, and pulling him closer.

Slowly, the kiss was broken, their lips pulling apart reluctantly. Harry looked into Draco's eyes. He didn't know what he'd find there. Was this goodbye? He could feel the warm metal press into his cheek as Draco's fingers whispered across his face.

"You're Lord Malfoy now," Harry said, his heart slowly breaking.

"Yes, and you're my boyfriend, so?" Draco smirked. He could see the confusion in Harry's face.

"I thought…I thought I should go. Your father said you'd do it. You'd have to marry someone and have a child, and you'd be Lord Malfoy, and I couldn't be with you," Harry finished, the words tumbling from his mouth.

"I'd never let you go. You're everything to me. I love you, you silly git," Draco said fiercely.

"But, your father said…an heir, I can't give you that," Harry stammered.

Draco smirked an evil little grin. "Mother said there are ways to get an heir. She always wanted grandchildren." He kissed Harry, just because he could, and he always would.

Harry stopped Draco's wandering hand, and gazed at the heavy silver ring on his lover's finger. "But, I don't understand, your father said…" Harry started to say.

"You have to remember, Harry, father taught me many things about being a Malfoy. A Malfoy never waits to be given something. A Malfoy takes what he wants," Draco said.

"You took his ring?" Harry said astonished at the audacity of his boyfriend. "What did he do?"

Draco blinked, and Harry could see the tears waiting to fall and he pulled his Lord Malfoy closer.

"He said he was proud of me," Draco whispered, his voice catching in a sob.


End file.
